


#TeamRatKing

by HollyeLeigh



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ballet, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Inspired by the Nutcracker, and some thirsty website comments, mature for language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:01:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28279551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HollyeLeigh/pseuds/HollyeLeigh
Summary: When The Storybrooke Ballet Company once again performs its traditional holiday offering of The Nutcracker: Reimagined, there is a new principal dancer causing quite a stir. Well, not so much him, as a fansite dedicated to him. #TeamRatKing thinks Killian Jones is the cat’s meow. Question is... what do his fellow cast and crew mates think?
Relationships: Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan
Comments: 11
Kudos: 79





	#TeamRatKing

**Author's Note:**

> This is all @kmomof4‘s fault. She texted me and @winterbaby89 the other day with a message that simply said Nutcracker AU, and after some brainstorming altogether, this happened. 
> 
> I am taking huge liberties with the classical ballet. In fact, for the purposes of this fic, I pretty much changed the entire thing. A brief recap of those changes can be found within the structure of the story, but basically I changed the role of the Mouse King in order to create something of a love triangle between him, Clara, and the Nutcracker. If you are a Nutcracker aficionado, then I beg your indulgence.

* * *

The entire cast gathered on stage for their final notes, all of them tired, sweaty, and still trying to catch their breath from the dress rehearsal. A new production of _The Nutcracker: Reimagined_ (a reworked and modernized telling of the classic ballet) was set to open the next night, a tradition the Storybrooke Ballet Company had upheld for the past five years, ever since it had received rave reviews by its patrons, featuring the same cast within the same roles each year… until this one.

This year, the company had welcomed a new principal dancer. An up and coming darling who had been brought in to replace a dancer who had sustained an injury and just happened to be the injured company member’s little brother. Though Killian Jones would tell you, with a cheeky twitch of his brows, the moniker wasn’t entirely correct, and therefore preferred _younger_ brother.

Gregarious and flirtatious, Killian seemed to get along with just about everyone. The backstage talent and crew appreciated the respect and interest he gave to each of their roles, while male and female chorus members alike fawned over the handsome and gifted dancer between rehearsals. He had been just what the company had needed, infusing a fresh rush of energy and excitement within the cast, and bringing a new take on the role passed down to him from his brother, who had played The Mouse King - a role that had been tweaked and expanded upon from its original concept, no longer taking the nightmarish form of Clara’s brother, Fritz, but instead embodying the rakish suitor this production’s older Clara was being forced to marry, making him a more enticing character for both the audience and the leading lady within the fantasy of the second act, where he attempted to woo her away from her noble Nutcracker until he ultimately met his demise in the great battle that now happened at the end of the piece - since SBC had debuted the ballet.

There were a few, however, that didn’t seem too thrilled or impressed by the brash new talent; principal leading man, Neal Cassidy, was at the top of that list. Neal had been the company’s male headliner, paired with their prima ballerina, Emma Swan, in every main role of every ballet the company had performed. When he’d heard the news of Liam Jones’ retirement and the hiring of the man’s younger brother, Neal had insisted the roles for this year’s production be cast before their newest member arrived, ensuring he received the title role for the fifth year in a row. After Killian arrived, Neal’s insecurities over his position within the company only increased, as did his very vocal and thinly veiled disdain for the man.

His first point of contention? The fact that Killian did not manscape, preferring to leave his chest _as God intended it_ , as Killian had put it when Neal had attempted to shame him during the first rehearsal. Since then, Neal had taken to calling him The _Rat_ King, even going so far as to “mistakenly” refer to his role as such in an interview he’d given to _The Storybrooke Mirror_.

Neal’s second grievance was the way the man seemed to have his sights set on _his_ leading lady. Emma Swan had once again been cast as Clara, but the consensus among the cast, the crew, the choreographer, _and_ the director was that Clara had more chemistry with the The Mouse King than she did with her Nutcracker. A bone of contention that was once again being noted before the entire assembly.

“Killian,” their director, Regina Mills, began with an exasperated tone. “Let me remind you, _again_ , that you are the villain of this piece. The audience should not be rooting for you to get the girl, so I need you to dial back the charm.”

“Would that I could,” Killian replied with false lament, earning him a smattering of stifled laughs. “Besides, would it be so bad if The Rat King got the girl? After all, doesn’t everyone love a charming bad boy?”

Regina sighed, and corrected. “ _Mouse_ King.”

“Right,” Killian responded with a wide grin. “My mistake.”

The entire company knew Neal had called Killian The Rat King as a dig, but Killian wasn’t about to give the man the satisfaction of being riled over it. Ever since the interview had run, he had embraced it, applying the new moniker to himself whenever he could just to needle the man. And if his teasing quips allowed him to throw a flirtatious wink or suggestive look to the stunning, blonde, head ballerina beauty who seemed otherwise immune to said charms, despite the way they practically set the stage on fire whenever they danced together, well, that was simply a bonus.

Killian understood the contentious welcome he’d received from Neal. He might be new to the SBC, but he’d been around the ballet world long enough to know how territorial principal dancers could be of their perceived turf. He had expected the posturing and the pissing contests with the other male lead, but it was the cool reception he’d received from the company’s leading lady that had left Killian reeling. And absolutely, thoroughly, unabashedly besotted as well.

Emma Swan was brilliant. Her talent, her wit, her drive, her kindness; all made her a bloody marvel in Killian’s estimations, but no amount of charm or attempts to create a bond between them off stage had been able to garner him the same result he experienced with her under the bright lights of the theatre.

A fact Neal reveled in and took every opportunity to goad Killian over.

“You’re wasting your time pursuing Emma,” Neal commented smuggly after Killian had again failed in his attempt to get Swan to join him for drinks after their opening night. “She’s a tough nut to crack.”

Killian adjusted the strap of the bag he’d swung over his chest, and cast a bored, slightly challenging, look Cassidy’s way. “Perhaps she simply doesn’t have the right Nutcracker.”

Neal’s demeanor darkened and he took a menacing step forward. “Are you suggesting you’d make a better Nutcracker than me?”

“Not me, mate,” Killian responded with a wide grin spreading over his face. “But there’s a few commenters on a website my brother discovered tonight that seem to think so.”

“What website?”

Killian just shrugged and made his way towards the stage door, where a a gaggle of squealing girls were waiting for him, all sporting shirts that read #TeamRatKing.

~/~

“There were about a dozen more patrons wearing those #TeamRatKing shirts tonight than there were last night,” Liam announced when he entered Killian and Neal’s dressing room after the third performance. After officially retiring from the company, Liam had taken a position within the back offices and served as head usher during the performances. Part of his job was to keep tabs on the company’s online presence, so when a mysterious fansite called #TeamRatKing had popped up prior to their opening night, he’d been the first to see it and report back to the company.

The site hosted the hashtag logo with a link back to the ballet company’s _The Nutcracker:Reimagined_ page as well as a link to Neal’s interview with _The Mirror_ , giving the title its context. It’s purpose seemed to be philanthropic in nature, offering t-shirts and other merchandise with the #TeamRatKing branding, with proceeds benefiting local foster kids, a charity that was very near and dear to Killian’s heart, ensuring they’d receive a special gift from Santa this holiday season. However, it was the flood of hundreds, quickly becoming thousands, of comments which championed, fangirled, and in some cases, thirsted over Killian that really had his fellow cast and crew mates talking.

Each day Killian would arrive for his call time, braced for the good-natured ribbing he was about to receive regarding the newest comments, with several more of the theatre’s staff sporting #TeamRatKing shirts, sipping from a site branded water bottle, while they warmed up. The razzing was always meant in jest. His castmates knew he had taken the choreographer and director’s notes to heart, and had pulled back the charm as to not upstage the other dancers, and that it wasn’t his fault that the website had taken off the way it had. None of them even knew who had created it, although Killian did have his theories.

The only person who didn’t seem to take the website and the firestorm it had created in stride was Neal. His were also the only remarks Killian, and others, took as barbs. Though everyone had remained professional, refusing to take the man’s bait.

That was until Friday evening, just after call time, when Neal came swaggering in and outed August for his “anonymous” comment, newly posted to the site that Killian hadn’t even seen yet.

August’s face turned bright red and his entire body stiffened in mortification as company members pulled out their phones to see what comment Neal was referring to. Killian heard a mixture of snickers, gasps, and shocked snorts while he waited for the site to load, and he had to school his own stunned response when he caught sight of the thirst thread August had _allegedly_ commented on.

_GotNoStrings69 says: What I wouldn’t give to take a crack at those nuts… ;o)_

“Don’t even try and deny it,” Neal kept on taunting. “We all know that’s your handle.”

It was clear to all watching, and _everyone was_ watching, that what August wanted more than anything in that moment was for the stage floor to open up and swallow him whole. All Killian wanted was to take Neal out back and give him a sound thrashing for being such a colossal ass. He felt the piercing, anticipatory gaze of all those around him, especially the vivid green ones that were flashing with their own protective anger as her best friend faced potential ridicule. As much for her sake as August’s, Killian leaned over and gave the man a sultry grin, intent on diffusing the pall Neal had cast.

“Honestly, mate, I’m flattered,” he purred with a deep timbre. “Unfortunately… devilishly handsome as you are, you’re simply not my type.” He placed a comforting hand on the man’s shoulder, which was beginning to relax under Killian’s supportive weight, then turned his seductive sights to the feisty blonde on August’s other side. “I much prefer blondes.” He threw Swan a cheeky wink which managed to achieve his end goal, earning him an eye roll as she fought to suppress a smile before gathering her things and exiting the stage.

“I’m wearing you down, love, I can feel it,” Killian called out after her, causing a cascade of laughter and wolf whistles to break through the nervous tension.

Collecting his own things, Killian helped August to his feet when Neal barreled over, not having satisfied his douchery quota for the day, it seemed.

“I told you before, you’re wasting your time with Emma,” Neal declared, haughtily. “She doesn’t date company members, otherwise… she’d already be taken.”

He left the taunt hanging as he pushed past, slamming Killian’s shoulder with his own. Killian’s jaw clenched, sending the muscle above jumping as it flickered with irritation, until August informed him, loud enough for anyone still in earshot to hear, “That’s a policy she only started implementing _after_ Neal asked her out the first time.”

August’s snark had Killian wondering, and not for the first time, if he was the one behind the website. He knew the man had experience with website development, and he certainly held no loyalty towards Cassidy. Not that Killian blamed him. He’d witnessed early on how the man belittled and demeaned anyone he felt was beneath him, and knew it was only the deep pockets of Cassidy’s father, one of the theatre’s most generous patrons, that had likely kept him in his principal role for so long.

~/~

Though it hadn’t been the first of its kind to appear on the #TeamRatKing website, August’s salacious comment had opened a flood gate of thirsty, sometimes borderline pornographic, comments about Killian Jones and his various… assets. Why Neal insisted on hate reading them all, he’d never know. It was like watching a train wreck happen while you were on the train.

_Killian Jones could suffocate me with those thighs of his, and I would thank him for it._

_Is there an application process to become The Rat King’s Brat Queen? If so, sign me the fuck up!_

_He can sugar my fairy plum any time he likes!_

_How does he dance so perfectly with that big head? … and no, I’m talking about the costume one ;)_

Neal stood in the corridor outside his dressing room, scrolling through the feed, and muttered, “His dance belt is not substantially bigger than mine,” only to have Robin, the company’s costumer, quip out, “Well, actually…” as he passed by.

“Fuck off, Locksley,” Neal groused, noticing the shirt the crewman wore and nearly crushing his cell phone within his tightening grip.

If he had to see one more of those shirts he was going to lose it. It was bad enough that nearly every member of the company and theatre staff were now sporting them, but every night he had to perform with the hashtag radiating at him from the audience. Whose bright idea had it been to offer the shirt with a glow in the dark option? Last night he’d nearly fallen over in the middle of his first sequence when he caught sight of the entire orchestra pit decked out in the obnoxious shirt, conspiring to distract him during his performance.

At least Emma hadn’t given in to the hype, Neal comforted himself. Because that’s all this was. Hype. The newness would wear off, and the man’s irritatingly brash nature would tarnish. Others would see Killian Jones for the flash in the pan that he was, and everything would go back to normal. Including his relationship with Emma.

She was _his_ leading lady. His pas de deux partner. They might not be an official couple, but before the _littler_ Jones had shown up, all their fans had shipped them. It used to be #nemma trending on the ballet’s Twitter page, and Neal was convinced it would again as soon as #TeamRatKing and #KingSwan had run its course. People would start pairing Emma with him again, and maybe this time she would finally see reason, get off her high horse, and admit she belonged with him.

~/~

Killian’s assertion days before were proving themselves true before his eyes. He _was_ wearing Emma Swan down.

Some of the chorus ladies affectionately called her Princess Prickley, but only because she was a perfectionist and could get tunnel-vision focused when preparing for and executing a role. Now that they were nearly finished with their performances, Killian had noticed a change in Swan’s demeanor, especially towards him. Whether it was because muscle memory was in full swing during her dances, the holiday season was finally starting to cast its merry spell over her, or because he had stood up for August in front of the entire company, Killian couldn’t say. All he knew was he’d been on the receiving end of more smiles and less eye rolls, and would bet his entire show wages on the fact he caught her staring at his arse when he’d bent over to talk to some of the children who had come for a special performance of the ballet.

“So, any big plans or family traditions for next week, love?” Killian asked as they made their way out of the theatre together.

“Nope,” she answered with a soft pop of the _p_. “I’ll probably end up crashing at David and Mary Margaret’s Christma Eve and watch Leo open his gifts the next morning. You?”

“Liam and I have a few traditions we try and keep up from our childhood,” he told her, shuffling his feet in the light dusting of snow that had fallen that afternoon. “Won’t your parents miss you at Christmas?”

“I, uh… I don’t have any parents.”

Killian’s stomach dropped. Taking in the woman before him, he cursed himself for not recognizing it earlier. That look. The one he and Liam had before Nemo had taken them in, looking after them until Liam had come of age and was able to care for Killian himself. Although, Nemo had always been a fixture in their lives even after they’d left his home.

“I’m so sorry, Swan,” he said, earnestly. “I should have realized. I too know what it’s like to be left on your own. And even though I have my brother, I know how difficult the holidays can be for us orphans.”

“I know,” she said, quietly, blinking away the hurt he had unintentionally caused by opening up old wounds. “Liam’s told me a little about you guys’ upbringing over the years.”

Killian wanted to reach out and gather her in his arms, to pull her in close without the pretext of performance guiding his actions, but before he could give in to the impulse, Emma stepped back and opened the door of her car.

“We should go,” she stated in a strained tone. “We only have a few hours before we have to be back for tonight’s show.”

“Aye,” he reciprocated, holding the door open for her as she climbed in and got situated. “I’ll see you tonight, love.”

Watching her drive off in that garish contraption she called a vehicle, Killian hoped he hadn’t just ruined the rapport he was finally starting to build with the woman he would very much like to call _his_ Swan, this, and every other Christmas here after.

~/~

As was his custom, Killian pulled up the #TeamRatKing website as he waited backstage in his dressing room. Neal had made himself scarce after Liam had come through, crowing that nearly every member of the audience was adorned in the black and white branded t-shirt for the closing night performance. A flurry of excitement swept the halls, not only because it was the final performance, but because the website creator had posted two astounding announcements.

The first was the final tally raised to benefit the local foster children, a staggering amount Killian could scarcely believe. The second, a promise that they would be in attendance for tonight’s performance, and would identify themselves by wearing a custom version of the t-shirt; Christmas red with a bright green logo.

The wings were twittering with performers all trying to spot the red out of a sea of black before curtain went up as Killian made his way through the throng. While he was also eager to know who had been behind the website so he could thank them for their support and generosity, his focus tonight - the last before the company would go their separate ways before rehearsals began for the next season - was on making sure Emma knew how serious he was in his intentions towards her.

She called out for him to enter after he gave a gentle knock to her door, and was then nearly barreled over by the stage manager who reminded them they only had five minutes to curtain.

“Thank you, five,” they both murmured in conditioned response, and suddenly Killian’s mouth went dry.

“Killian?” Emma prompted. “Did you need something?”

Shaking himself, Killian cleared his throat and could feel the seconds ticking away with each thud of his pulse. “Yeah, I, uh… I wanted to let you know if plans with David and Mary Margaret fall through, you would be more than welcome to join Liam and me at Granny’s for Christmas dinner.”

“Granny’s? Isn’t that the diner a few blocks over?”

“Aye, she, uh… she hosts a lost souls dinner every year. For those who can’t get home or have no home to go to, and I thought… I hoped. You might want to come. With me.”

Her brows furrowed and she cocked her head to one side while she chewed her bottom lip in consideration. “Like a date?”

“Aye,” he exhaled. “Like a date.” Something in her eyes emboldened him to step forward and take her hand in his. Rubbing the back of it with his thumb he asked, “Emma Swan, would you have Christmas dinner with me?”

Her mouth fell open, but no words were forthcoming. Killian was beginning to think he’d just made an absolute fool of himself when the stage manager returned, shouting places and practically dragging Killian out of the room so Emma could take her mark.

~/~

Difficult as it was, Killian put the catastrophe of his bungled invitation out of his mind and kept his focus on giving the audience their money’s worth. They weren’t but a few songs into the suite when the charged atmosphere took hold, and everything except the story they had to tell fell away. By the end of the ballet, Killian was exhilarated. Practically vibrating with adrenaline, he lined up to take his curtain call, and was met with thunderous applause. A cacophony of congratulatory appreciation that only ratched up further when he removed the mouse head he wore as part of his costume, causing the corners of his eyes to crinkle and the dimple at his cheek to deepen before he moved aside and made way for Neal to take his bow.

Which was met with far less fanfare. Not that such a reaction was new. Neal had faced a lackluster response from the audience for a growing number of performances, souring the man to the point of grumbling about standing ovations and how tacky they were.

Well, if he thought the crowd’s response to Killian was tacky, then he must have considered the roar they gave at Emma’s appearance obscene. It took Killian a moment to register why the audience reacted as they did, beyond the brilliance of her performance, but when she finally stepped out from the line of the company, Killian’s jaw dropped.

Pulled over the top of her costume she wore a bright red t-shirt, and though Killian couldn’t see the front until after she’d taken her bow, he didn’t need for her to make her way towards him to know what it said.

Wait… she was making her ways towards him?

Before he could say anything Emma grabbed the lapels of his costume and yanked him forward, moulding her lips to his. The theatre damn near erupted, the explosive reaction of the audience and their fellow castmates vibrating up his legs from the stage floor and deafening him with their cheers. None of it really registered to him, though. The only thing that held any significance to him in that moment was the hot slide of Emma’s mouth over his as she melted against him when his arms snaked their way around her body.

All too soon they had to come up for air. Dazed, Killian panted, “It was you? You created the website?”

Coyly, she flicked her gaze up to his, and a mischievous smile spread across her kiss swollen lips. “What can I say? I always thought mice and rats were kinda cute.”

“Cute?” Killian scoffed with mocked offense. “I prefer dashing, darling.”

“That, too,” she giggled, brushing her lips against his one last time before taking her place within the line so they could give their company bow (which had found itself one member short after Neal had stomped off stage in a huff).

After waving to the crowd, Killian rushed to her side as the curtain closed and wrapped his arms around her once more. “Does this mean you accept my offer of partaking Christmas dinner with me?”

Emma ran her hands up his chest, and replied, “Only if you’ll agree to help me deliver gifts to the foster kids the day before that.”

Nuzzling the tip of her nose with his, Killian said, “It would be my pleasure, love.”

“Oh, no,” she purred, pulling him for another kiss. “That part comes later.”


End file.
